Rebels at Stagnation
by doctorcoffeeboy
Summary: My first proper attempt at Sherlock-verse. A series of 1-3 shots or drabbles centering around Sherlock and Watson, with occasional visits frm other people of course. Only a tiny bit of slash, but it's a rarity. T for extra room.
1. Simple

A/N: Hi! I'm back from momentary vacation whilst I did NaNoWriMo, so now I've returned to Fanfiction. This is a series of Drabbles and one-three shots. Could be any length.

**This is my first attempt at Sherlock writing, without the aid of my friend, so please be gentle! This is the first one, a little 100 worder to keep you all sweet. More soon.**

**Disclaimer: I'm sorry that Sherlock and Watson – and all others – belongs to The Moffinator, The Godtiss, and Mr Conan Doyle. But still, at least they look after them both, because I would just keep cuddling them. **

"I can't do it." Sherlock complained.

"Yes you can Sherlock. Just focus." John told him.

"It isn't important to me. I don't need it, and I don't get it."

"Sherlock-" John was interrupted by Sherlock letting his head hit the desk in front of him with an exasperated groan.

"Not possible to Comprehend." He murmured, words muffled by his position.

"Are you giving up?" John asked, amazed.

"Yes. Yes… I'm giving up! You win!" Sherlock declared, sitting up and crossing his arms. "You finally understand something I don't." He pouted stubbornly.

"Sherlock. It's simple. We're _three_ planets from the sun."


	2. Scarf

A/N: Tiny bit Slash. Not really, but implications of bed-sharing and Bromance. Nothing bad, but if you don't like it, don't read it.

John closed the Door to 221b Baker Street gratefully, shutting out the chill. He wished Sherlock would go get the groceries once in a while; it wasn't as if it was a problem. Sherlock solved crimes every day, and yet he couldn't just Go To The Shop.

Shrugging, John supposed that must be the reason why he was so thin. The chances that he'd gone out to get food when he lived alone were very slim. John could imagine him just settling for having no food until Mrs. Hudson brought him some. It would explain why he seemed so surprised that people actually _needed_ to buy groceries, as he'd been living with them just appearing in his cupboard.

John walked up the stairs into his flat and discarded his scarf, tossing it across the couch as he went to the kitchen, planning to pick it up and put it back properly when he came out again.

He was half expecting Sherlock to make a snide comment about somewhere John had been or something, but there was none. Looking over into the living room, he saw Sherlock was engrossed in whatever he was doing on _Johns_ laptop.

"You do realise that's mine?" John asked.

"Yes. I'm not stupid. I thought we agreed to share?"

"I never agreed to that." John told him.

"Oh, I never said you did. Me and the Skull decided it while you were away."

"How-Actually, never mind." John shook his head, he didn't want to know how that conversation had gone really.

He resumed moving the groceries into their rightful places and put away the washing up – ignoring the hand in the Cutlery draw. Again. – and returned to the living room with two teas.

"Um…Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock didn't look round.

"You're wearing my scarf."

"I'm quite aware of that fact, John." Sherlock sighed. "I really thought you'd be able to work that out without stating it like a child." Sherlock hadn't moved from his position in front of the laptop, but he had indeed taken Johns dark brown scarf and wove it around his own neck, carrying on with his work as if it was perfectly normal.

"Why?"

"It's cold."

"We could turn up the heating. And it really isn't."

"That's because your wearing a jumper. You can see clearly I am not." Sherlock said as if it was obvious.

"You could put on your blazer? It's just on the other chair."

"Too far away. Your scarf was right there."

John walked over to Sherlock, a small smile playing on his lips. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that it smells like me, would it?"

"…No."

John grinned but stopped himself and took hold of one end of the scarf which was resting behind Sherlock and he'd only loosely thrown it on, and pulled gently until Sherlock turned to face him.

"If you wanted something like that, you could just have borrowed one of my jumpers." He told Sherlock.

"You scarf was closer and I didn't want to move far." Sherlock reasoned. "Sorry." He seemed a little worried as John seemed bothered.

"Don't be. It's fine." John reached forward and kissed Sherlocks' forehead. "Tonight, I'll be right next to you, as always, so you won't need my scarf."

Sherlock smiled, an uncharacteristic trait that seemed to only happen around John…or a case, but John chose not to believe he ranked with things like that in Sherlocks mind.

"Okay. I'm keeping it now though."

"Fine." John smiled and handed him the tea.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called up. "Detective Inspector to see you, says there's been another attack."

Sherlock grinned and looked at John, a new light on his face. "Ready?" He asked. "The tea can wait."

John grabbed his coat. "Um. My scarf…"

"You have many. Come on!" Sherlock grabbed his own coat and swept out of the room, smiling to himself at the scent of John that was lingering around his neck, and the tingling from where his lips were.

John would worry about getting his scarf later, right now it was time for action, deaths, and mystery.

A/N: I should probably have started with this one, as it introduces their arrangement more, oops. Well, Review please! I'd love to know what you all think. First Ten Reviewers get a cyber-cookie and a request! And to keep you all sweet, there's a double Chapter-send out!


	3. Paranoia

Sherlock had just solved a case in his miraculous way and now the buzz was beginning to wear of. He was getting bored. Heaven forbid.

John was walking beside him on the way to Lestrades' lair, and Sherlock noted smugly that the limp was completely gone. All thanks to his brilliance of course.

When they arrived, it seemed Lestrade was busy, talking to Anderson and Donavon.

"We should wait." John tried to tell him.

"What, and let them think they're more important?" Sherlock scoffed. "Come on John." He strode through the doors, ignoring Johns warnings, as always in times like this. He may be nice and listen sometimes, but not here.

"Excuse me Freak, we're talking." Sally told Sherlock bitterly.

"Yes, the _adults_ are talking." Anderson added.

"I'm sorry, I see no adults." Sherlock retorted. "Just two hormone-filled teenagers with atrocious floors that have been scrubbed repeatedly."

Sally's face went bright red as she tried to think of something to say. "Shut up."

"Really?" Sherlock tilted his head. "That's the best you've got, honestly?"

"Freak." Sally marched past him.

"Says the woman choosing Andersons' floors out of the entire Yard." Sherlock flinched as Sally elbowed him in the ribs on the way past, and got roughly pushed out of the way by Anderson.

"You shouldn't do that." Lestrade told him. "You wonder why they refuse to work with you?"

"I don't wonder. I know perfectly well, I just don't do anything about it." Sherlock sat down. "Got any cases?"

"You _just_ solved one!"

"Do you think the Criminals of London all seriously talk to each other and decide to only do one crime at a time, and wait for theirs because someone just did one?"

"You've solved the others too. I'm sorry Sherlock, but we've got nothing in."

"Thanks anyway Greg." John said to Lestrade. "Come on Sherlock."

Sherlock stood up, looking like a child that had been neglected his favourite toy.

~|~|~|~|~|~|_**SH**_|~|~|~|~|~|

In the cab on the way home, Sherlock had an idea. John was looking at his phone and not Sherlock, which made it perfect. He looked at the window next to him, seeing John in the reflection. He focused on Johns image, and surely enough, John eventually flicked his gaze up to Sherlock, who remained innocently looking out of the window.

Time Taken: 20 seconds

John looked back down and Sherlock went for phase two, staring at the reflection, and thinking Johns name repeatedly. They – whoever _they_ are – that you get paranoid if someone stares at you, and so far Sherlock had proved it worked with reflections. But just thinking of the person made no difference. That was obvious, as if they could sense other people's thoughts.

So maybe Mirrors.

Sherlock settled his gaze on the car mirror used to check behind the car, and shifted his head slightly so he could see John. Again, he focused on John, making no noise or anything to suggest it. When John looked sharply across at him again, Sherlock dropped his gaze to out of the front window.

_Time Taken: 10 seconds._

If his newly discovered hypothesis worked against those two discoveries, then the next would be 5 seconds.

Sherlock steeled himself for this one; it was going to be tricky not being caught.

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock looked at John out of the corner of his eye.

_Time Taken: 5 seconds. Excellent._

Now for the full on. Sherlock actually turned his head to look at John.

_Time Taken: 1 second._

"What!" John asked.

"Nothing." _Strange, that time was considerably shorter. Maybe it's because I wasn't just focusing, I was full on looking._

"No Sherlock. What were you doing?"

"Just conducting an experiment to see if you get paranoid when I look at you from various angles."

~|~|~|~|~|~|_**SH**_|~|~|~|~|~|

Throughout the week, Sherlock found this theory worked pretty well on everyone at Scotland Yard, although Donovan's time was drastically shorter, showing she was more paranoid, probably about being asked to scrub other peoples' floors, Sherlock decided.

**A/N: Reviews? Please? *Puppy Eyes*. I even gave you a double chapter!**


	4. Melting

John Watson returned from work only to be greeted by the smell of burning.

Deciding Sherlock must be carrying out of his damned experiments, John just closed the door and walked round into the kitchen for a tea – and swore loudly.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock himself was unconscious, laying on the floor of the kitchen with his arms thrown out as if he'd been protecting himself. Going by the smell, and the mess, there had been an explosion of sorts.

Looking around, John located that it was the microwave that had exploded, and it had done so with a large amount of debris. There were a few holes in Sherlocks shirt, but only a few cuts. Nothing bad.

Sighing, John picked his way through bits of Microwave and some gooey substance that logic told him to avoid, and lifted Sherlock slightly.

"Sherlock!" He called, causing the unconscious Detective to start and open his eyes.

"Did it work?" He asked quietly.

"Did _what_ work?"

"The experiment, obviously." Sherlock sat up.

"What was it about?"

"Well, you know when Sally found the eyeballs in the Microwave?"

"Yes~" Where was this going?

"Well, I wanted to see what happened if I tried to melt them."

**A/N: Do you think that was an alright ending? Not too abrupt? I thought it would be a good place to stop it really, and it was exactly 200 words. **


	5. Waterfall

**A/N: A bit of background – last night, me and my friend **_**The Shannonator**_** (She doesn't know it's her nickname yet) were writing a fanfic on MSN, I jumped in with the first pieces, and the last 3 paragraphs are hers. It was just so perfect I couldn't bring myself to change it. So here it is, in all it's unaltered glory, apart from Capital Letters being corrected, Our Fic! **

Sherlock looked around, boredom setting in.

John was out. He was alone. Again. What was so bloody important about having a girlfriend anyway?

They just took up time and money. Besides, Sherlock was much more fun to hang around with!

He picked up a glass of water next to him, looking at it. Without really thinking, he tipped it, letting the water flow out onto the carpet like a little waterfall. He kept his face still, just looking.

He finished that glass and saw another one next to him. Picking it up too, he did the same. The carpet was becoming like a little swamp now. Sherlock was just dripping out the last few bits when John walked in.

John made his way to his room through the living room where Sherlock was sat in his armchair pouring cups of whatever onto the floor.

John shook his head and just continued into the bedroom.

Was there any point?

A/N: The last line sold it to me, I think. I just giggled and had to slip it online for you all! We went on to make Sherlock throw a Childish Tantrum on the couch by flailing his arms about and yelling how bored he was (my idea) and John putting on Cbeebies for him, using the line 'Isn't this what _kids_ your age watch?' (her idea) but this chapter was the best bit.

Let me know what you all thought! :)


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